


Holiday Bonus

by VenusMonstrosa



Series: recalibrates' Stucky Advent Calendar 2018 [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Boss/Employee Relationship, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-07 02:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16845349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenusMonstrosa/pseuds/VenusMonstrosa
Summary: Day 3: Not safe for work.





	Holiday Bonus

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by/an ode to [notlucy's Proprietary Information series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/850242), beta'd by darling [daphneblithe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphneblithe).

The floor is finally quiet. 

Bucky looks up from his computer, noting that more lights had been turned off since the last time he checked. He glances at his watch to verify that it is, indeed, well past eight, and he’s probably the last one there. 

Straightening up in his chair, he methodically goes about saving his work, clearing out his inbox, and logging off. Once he’s done, another look at his watch tells him it’s nearing nine. 

He gathers his things, drapes his coat over his arm, and turns the lights off in his office before heading to the elevator. His finger hovers over the  _ P2 _ button.

Instead--

He swipes his badge and the elevator doors shut. He takes deep, steadying breaths until they open again, and he steps out onto the darkened, empty seventeenth floor.

The walk to the southeast corner of the building seems infinitely longer than it should, giving Bucky more time to change his mind. He can feel his heart pounding through his chest and his hands are sweaty enough to leave wet patches on his pants when he wipes them off on his thighs. He should reconsider. He should go home.

But at the end of a long hall, light spills out from under the door to the corner office, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. He puts one foot in front of the other until he hears soft Christmas music from the other side of the door, sets his knuckles on the wood and knocks twice before he can think about it.

After a moment’s pause, a deep voice calls out to him.  _ “Come in.” _

He’s already come this far.

Bucky pushes the door open and lets himself into his boss’s office. 

“James?” Steve says, surprise colouring his voice. His hair is a little mussed and his shirtsleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and he peers at Bucky through a pair of glasses Bucky’s never seen before. He’s never seen Steve look less than perfectly polished, if he has to be honest. The casual way he slouches in his chair throws Bucky off entirely. Steve looks easy and relaxed, and Bucky has the sudden urge to curl up at his feet. “What are you still doing here?”

“Had a project to wrap up last minute,” Bucky lies, voice pitching higher than he’d like. He clears his throat and tries again. “Thought I’d check in, since you’re always working late.”

“Someone has to, and I’d rather it be me than you,” Steve smiles, taking his glasses off and setting them down. The only source of light in the massive space is from Steve’s desk lamp, illuminating his keyboard and half-drunk glass tumbler of whiskey on the rocks. “I thought you were going back to Indiana for Christmas? Don’t tell me you cancelled because of that project.”

“No, I still am,” Bucky reassures him. “I’m driving out tomorrow morning. Twelve hours.”

“Ah. Hell of a road trip.”

Bucky takes a step into the office, and the door shuts quietly behind him. “I got used to it.”

Steve nods, eyeing him up curiously. “You should probably get going, then. You’ll need a good night’s sleep. Wouldn’t want to miss Christmas with your family.”

“Yeah. I should,” Bucky murmurs, but makes no move to leave. “But.”

Steve frowns. “But what?”

Bucky looks over him, at the soft red flush to his cheeks, his slightly loosened tie. Bucky itches to wrap it around his hand and  _ tug. _

In lieu of a response, he wills himself to walk further into the room, dropping his coat on a nearby chair.

“James?” Steve asks.

Bucky stops at the edge of the desk. “What about you?” he says softly. Boldly.

At that, Steve leans back in his chair, scratching his beard and regarding him warily. “What do you mean?”

Bucky swallows down the lump in his throat. “The past three years I’ve been at this company, you’ve always worked through Christmas. I don’t like the thought of you cooped up in your office. Alone. On  _ Christmas. _ ”

Steve barks a laugh, startling him. “James. You don’t have to worry about me. It’s means more when you’ve got a big family, I’m sure. Otherwise...”

The unspoken implications hang heavy between them. Steve sighs and waves his hand in the air. “I still have a couple things to finish up before I can head out. You go on, be merry on my behalf.”

Bucky chews on his bottom lip. “Do you always have to work this hard? Don’t you get stressed out?”

Steve nods at his glass. “Work hard, play hard, I suppose.”

“I suppose,” Bucky concedes.

Without hurry, he reaches for the drink. 

Steve watches.

Bucky brings the cold glass to his lips and downs the rest of the whiskey, closing his eyes against the burn that pales in comparison to the heat of Steve’s eyes on him.

He sets the tumbler back down and walks around to the other side of the desk, stopping just short of Steve’s legs. “Maybe,” Bucky begins, mustering up the nerve to look him in the eyes. “I could help.”

“James,” Steve says disapprovingly. 

“Tell me to stop,” Bucky says. “Tell me.”

Steve doesn’t. 

Bucky grabs the armrest of the chair and slowly turns it towards him, until Steve is facing him head-on.

Steve carefully doesn’t react, which is as much of a reaction as Bucky would’ve expected from him. Always so calm, so in control. There’s nothing Bucky wouldn’t give to see that facade shattered.

With as much grace as he can manage, he slides to the floor.

“Tell me to stop,” he repeats. 

Still, Steve doesn’t.

He places his hands on Steve’s knees. 

He slides them up his thighs, and down again, just to feel the muscle. 

Steve watches neutrally as Bucky crawls closer, pressing his cheek to Steve’s thigh. He pillows his head there for a moment, giving himself some time to breathe. Steve is warm and solid under him, still as stone. 

Cautiously, a hand slides into Bucky’s hair. It doesn’t push him, doesn’t guide him. It simply rests there, heavy and comforting. Bucky freezes at the initial touch but quickly leans into it, eyes falling shut.

Emboldened, he sneaks his hand further up Steve’s thigh. He runs his knuckles over the bulge there, tracing the outline with wandering fingertips. His face burns as he feels it harden, his own dick twitching in response. 

Above him, Steve exhales.

Bucky scoots forward until he feels the heat of Steve’s groin against his face, until he can nudge it with his nose. The scent of him is heady and dizzying. Bucky nuzzles at him, slow and deliberate, until he fills out in the confines of his trousers. Bucky slides his lips along the length of it, sealing them around the head and dampening that patch of fabric.

“James,” Steve says.

Bucky looks up at him with wide eyes, trying to project an air of innocence. “Askin’ me to stop?” 

Steve assesses him carefully from under his long lashes. After a moment, he smooths Bucky’s hair behind his ear. “No,” he says gently. “Askin’ you to be sure.”

“I’m sure,” Bucky insists without hesitation. 

He reaches for Steve’s belt.

“I’ve been sure.”

Deftly, he unbuckles it.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

He moves onto the zipper.

“For three years, all you did was look.”

He pulls Steve’s half-hard cock out, thumbing at the velvety foreskin that sheathes it. 

“But you can  _ have. _ ” 

Before he can get his mouth on it, Steve rests his thumb on Bucky’s plush bottom lip, just to anchor him. The focused, quiet hunger in Steve’s gaze makes him shiver. 

“I can have you, James?” he asks in a gravelled tone.

Bucky nods, heart racing anew.

“Though, this might be a weird time to ask you to call me Bucky,” he mumbles, nearly dislodging Steve’s thumb. “Not even my own mother calls me James.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “I’ll call you whatever you want, if you never bring up your mother with my dick in your hand, ever again.”

“Deal,” Bucky agrees enthusiastically, preening at the thought of having Steve’s dick in his hand  _ again _ .

Before he can ruin the mood any further, he licks a wet stripe up the underside and relishes  Steve’s soft moan. Bucky strokes him to full hardness with his lips wrapped around the head, tonguing at the slit and lapping up all the precome he can squeeze out of him. 

_ “Perfect, _ ” Steve murmurs with admiration. “Like you were made for this, god, look at you, can’t get enough--”

As vocal as Steve is, to his credit, he isn’t pushy. He doesn’t force Bucky’s head down or fuck up into his mouth, and keeps his hands balled up into fists on the armrests. Bucky wouldn’t be against having his hair pulled a little, but he appreciates the effort to be polite. 

Erect, Steve is a thick and beautiful weight on his tongue, long enough that Bucky has to use his hand around inches he can’t take. Bucky eases his length into the back of his throat, fighting the urge to gag as he starts up a steady pace. He isn’t worried about finesse, thick saliva running down his chin and hand, the sloppier he gets. Steve whispers his name with reverence, spurring Bucky on to swallow him down with a fervour until his nose is buried in pubic hair. 

Bucky shifts and feels the sticky wetness of his own dick inside his pants. He moans, making Steve moan in turn. 

“Not gonna last if you keep that up,” Steve warns, hips jerking. “Gonna flood that gorgeous mouth.”

Bucky hums in response, and Steve groans at the sensation. “Fuck,  _ Bucky, _ don’t stop, don’t stop--”

Bucky looks up to watch Steve come undone, to see him throw his head back in unnamable bliss as he spills Bucky’s throat. Bucky suckles at him gently, milking him through it until Steve is grunting and shifting in his chair. 

When he finally pulls off, he wipes his sleeve across his face, though he’s certain he’s just smeared everything and made it worse. Steve barely gives him a moment to catch his breath before he’s reaching down and pulling Bucky up and onto his lap. Steve licks into his mouth like a starving man, hands on Bucky’s hips and encouraging a wicked, shameless grind against him. Bucky gets his hands in Steve’s hair, on his tie, encompassing those sinfully broad shoulders and chest. Steve nibbles his way down the side of Bucky’s neck, lashing his tongue against a spot behind Bucky’s ear when Bucky finally tenses up and comes. In his pants. On his boss.

He slumps against Steve in an embarrassed, tired heap. 

Steve runs a hand up and down Bucky’s back, but neither of them speak for a while, perhaps waiting for the other to get the nerve. 

“I meant what I said,” Bucky starts, blushing at how hoarse he sounds. “I don’t like you being alone on Christmas.”

Steve sighs.

“But you have my number. So. You can text me, if you want,” Bucky continues, turning his head until his voice is muffled in Steve’s shirt. “Or email me. I can check my emails on my phone, too. Obviously. Or, um, I don’t know if you use Instagram--”

Steve sighs again, more heavily this time. “I’ll call you. Kids these days still know how to use a phone the way a phone is meant to be used, right?”

Bucky snorts, but nods into his chest.

“Okay. Then I won’t be alone.”

“No, you won’t be,” Bucky agrees. “I won’t let you.”

That rings true for the next Christmas, and all the Christmases that follow. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the delay. Tumblr imploded, I had schoolwork to catch up on, and everything was terrible, but I didn't want to be a day late with this, so here I am. Posting at 4AM. RIP. (The next ficlet will still be up later tonight!)
> 
> In the meantime, [tumblr](http://recalibrates.tumblr.com) is still the best place to follow/reach me until that hellsite finally bursts into flames, but I'm also on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/VenusMonstrosa) now, if you'd like to keep up with me there.


End file.
